“Not even a little bit,” Tilly said and gave Leo a hug. “Be a good boy and send me Snaps.”
She made her way to Dylan’s office, but it was dark. In the hallway, she heard the scampering of Leo’s paws and turned with a smile as he raced toward her. She scooped him up, waved at Ric who was on the phone again to tell him that she had the pup, and headed back to the open hangar to walk around. Penn had hung pictures on the walls of the guys. In the military. In South America. Here, with some of their clients. There was even one of her and Dylan. She recognized it as being taken that day he’d taken her up for a flight. They’d just gotten off the helicopter and she was grinning wide, hair going crazy in the breeze, looking up at Dylan with an expression of sheer joy.
And love.
It made her suck in a breath. Her body had known it before her brain had.
Dylan was in his leather jacket and dark aviator sunglasses, looking into her face with his mouth curved, and while there was nothing soft about him, the look on his face was most definitely soft.
He loved her back.
It was her own miracle.
But her own miracle was late. She looked at her phone, but nope. No missed call, no text.
Maybe he’d changed his mind, a very small, cruel voice from deep inside her whispered.
After all, he’d done it before . . .
She squeezed Leo for comfort and the pup set his head on her shoulder, his way of giving love. With a sad smile, she turned to go and two arms encircled her from behind.
Dylan.
Relief filling her, she leaned back into him. He nuzzled his jaw to hers, one of his hands coming up to stroke down Leo’s back.
The pup froze for a beat and Tilly opened her mouth to warn him not to even think about growling, but Leo didn’t. Instead, he leaned up and . . . licked Dylan’s jaw before setting his head on Dylan’s shoulder.
Dylan smiled as if the affection was simply his due, and Tilly had never loved him more than in that moment.
“Ready?” he asked her.
She started to say yes, but there was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite place. Turning in his arms, she looked up at him, but he was wearing an expression she couldn’t place either. “I am if you are,” she murmured, hoping that her earlier thought of him changing his mind was just paranoia on her part.
He smiled, but seemed distracted as he transferred her duffel bag from her shoulder to his, took Leo back to Ric, and then led them outside.
“Hey,” she said softly, dragging her feet until he turned back to look at her. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure.” He turned back to the helicopter.
While that small, cruel voice inside her head began to taunt her. You should freak out now . . .
But she managed to hold it together and in ten minutes, they were in the air. She loved watching him work the controls like he’d been born to it. Clearly feeling her gaze, he glanced over at her, looking sexy as hell in that headset and dark glasses. He smiled, but it was that odd, distant smile, and her heart congealed.
“It’s okay, you know,” she said quietly. She didn’t have to speak louder, he could hear her in his headset.
Again he glanced at her, his own gaze hidden behind those dark lenses. “What’s okay?”
“If you’ve changed your mind about me. About us.”
His expression went completely blank and he turned his attention back to controlling the flight for a painfully long moment. “Why would you think I’ve changed my mind?” he finally asked.
“Because you’re acting weird.”
“I’m acting weird?”
“Yes!” she said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or just keep repeating whatever I’ve said?”
He said absolutely nothing to this and she opened her mouth to press for more information than that, but he pointed a finger to his headset, indicating he was listening to something or someone and needed a moment.
Wow. Okay then. So she’d been right and the way her gut had sunk all the way to her toes made her want to throw up. Since he was busy speaking into his headset to someone she couldn’t hear in hers, she tuned him out and in order to not cry, she took in the gorgeous view as they headed west from the airport.
It should have taken her breath, but her breath had already been taken. She pressed her nose to the glass, trying to distract herself by playing the game in her head of placing landmarks. There was downtown. The café. Her house. The highway as they turned and headed toward the ocean. She pressed even closer to the window, wanting to see if she could see the billboard her students were designing and she sucked in a breath because she could indeed see it.
Only there was something on it. A graphic design in bright primary colors with words blocked out . . .
T . . .
Will . . .
You . . .
Marry . . .
Me . . .
Her heart started pounding heavily in her headset, boom, boom, boom, so that she couldn’t hear anything but the blood whooshing through her veins. Because the billboard appeared to be proof that he hadn’t planned on walking away from her at all . . . “Dylan,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze off the words. “What—”
The helicopter jerked as they abruptly changed directions and she lost sight of the billboard. She gripped the dashboard and twisted to look at Dylan. “What—”
“Hold on.” His face was still carefully blank as he worked the controls. “We’re going back.”
Because she’d taken what she now realized had been his nerves as him no longer wanting to be with her. She was an idiot. “Dylan—”
“Your sister’s in labor and needs you.”
She sucked in a breath. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t answer, just concentrated on flying them back.
“Dylan—”
“Mick called and got Penn. Said we needed to get to the hospital right away.”
“Hurry,” she whispered.
“Roger that.”
Thirty minutes later, they were on the ground and racing toward the hospital in his truck. She was filled with fear and panic.
Still concentrating on the road, Dylan reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered, her throat thick with tears.
They hit the maternity ward at a dead run and Tilly grabbed onto the counter like it was a lifeline. “Quinn Hennessey,” she managed. “She’s in labor and—”
“You Tilly?” the nurse asked, standing up.
“Yes.”
“Finally.” The nurse took her at a brisk near run down the hallway and shoved a pair of scrubs at her. “Quickly now,” the nurse said and then had Tilly wash up before leading her into a labor and delivery room.
Quinn was in the bed, hunched over her bent knees, huffing and puffing like a locomotive. Mick was at her side. A doctor was telling Quinn to keep breathing.
Both Mick and the doctor looked beat to hell.
“I am breathing!” Quinn yelled. “And the next person to tell me to keep breathing is going to die!” She caught sight of Tilly in the doorway. “Took you long enough! Get over here and hold my damn hand. I needed to push an hour ago!”
“Why didn’t you?”